Going Under
by DatAssRomano
Summary: Base urges are hard to deny. Desire is even harder. And Lovina didn't realise who she should be chasing...until he saved her. ((Spamano-ish. Mentions of Framano, FrUk, MonaSeyUk))


**# Going Under(Het!Spamano/Framano) #**

**FRAMANO IS MY SPECIAL PAIRING 3 It's hard to make Framano happy; nearly impossible. Yes, Romano is Romana at the moment. Napoleon Dynamite is not a good way to bribe someone. This has an AU setting. Romana's about 19 and Francis and Antonio are in their early twenties. Also, she and Toni live together. :3 AND IGGY HAS BITCHES.**

**Lovina Vargas- Fem! Italy Romano**

**Antonio Carriedo- Spain**

**Francis Bonnefoy- France**

**Arthur Kirkland- England**

**Michelle Bonnefoy- Seychelles**

**Sophia Bonnefoy- Monaco**

**((So many Bonnefoys - ))**

### ####

"...Lovi, I don't like that you're dating Francis," was the first relevant comment I'd heard from my best friend the entire afternoon as I adjusted my tie in the mirror and smirked at my reflection. I looked like a...well, I didn't know. But whatever I was, I was damn hot and Antonio wasn't getting in the way of it. These jeans were tight, and the shirt was just right (when in Rome, show off your assets) , and the tie was loose, and the glasses were classy. I looked good...hopefully, anyway.

"What do you mean 'I don't like it', bastard?"

"I mean I don't like it. Francis may be one of my friends, but..."

"But what?"

I turned to look at him, a slightly hurt look playing across my face, which made him glance up at me and then look away. I didn't really understand what I was doing wrong, but I felt my cheeks begin to burn in indignation. What exactly was I doing that was harming Antonio so much? We lived together, sure, but he hadn't been my babysitter for a fucking long time. And he wasn't my boyfriend. Usually he didn't have a problem with anything I did, but today he'd been quieter than usual, and he had started whining about nonsense things when I was trying to get ready. It had taken him until...I checked my watch...half an hour before aforementioned date to actually get to what he wanted to say.

"You could just...not go," Antonio mumbled. "We could stay here and watch something; how about Napoleon Dynamite?"

"Sorry. Not voting for Pedro this time, Toni."

"Please, mi tomate, I don't like it."

I sighed as I let him hug me, pulling me on top of him on the bed. I breathed in his scent, which was mainly chocolate at the moment. Had he been eating all the nutella again? He'd done it before when he was upset about something, and it disturbed me when I found a giant empty nutella jar where there had been a full one yesterday. I thought girls were the only ones that did that, and it was...weird, frankly. Usually he was more of a culinary artist than that.

Oh. He was deliciously warm, though. I brushed my web of thoughts aside and hugged him back for once, nuzzling his collarbone for a second before looking at his face, which was slightly red but still had that tiny semblance of pouting on it. With a clearly visible eyeroll I slid off of him, ignoring the temptation to stay in his embrace. I glanced back at him, still sprawled out on the bed in all his messy glory, and smiled faintly. I was lucky to have him around, although I'd never admit it to anyone. He was a light in my life I never wanted to lose sight of.

"Promise I'll come back tonight. Si?"

### ####

_"That's not the point!"_

_Antonio realised as soon as he'd spoken that Lovina had already gone. On her date. With one of his best friends. Who was also a serial pervert who never took anyone seriously. And he was so insanely jealous it wasn't funny, but now really wasn't a good time to admit that. What a disaster this all was, and there was no way he could stop it. He reached for his phone sleepily, grabbing the object and nearly dropping it to the floor in the process. He let out a muttered curse and dialled Francis's number in. It rang for a few moments before it was picked up, and the Spanish man on this end of the line let out a relieved sigh when it was. _

_"Bonjour?"_

_"Hola, Francis! So...I heard you're going out tonight...where to?"_

### ####

I felt the nervousness begin to trickle in as I regarded the fancy club. It was so...Francis to have picked some upper class shit like this when it was supposed to be a damn nightclub. Not to mention the bastard was late. He'd mentioned something about his cousin from the Mona-ko place being sick once, maybe that was it? I leaned against a nearby lamppost and took in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I was fine, it was fine, no panic attacks. I'd had one too many lately, and the point of this was to relax, not the complete opposite as I was acting at the moment.

"Ma cherie! Over here!"

"You're late. Rude," I replied, ignoring the relief I felt.

He laughed in that obnoxious way of his, flipping his golden hair over his shoulder like some teenage girl. Really, he was in his twenties, and I was pretty sure he was a guy, so I didn't know why he bothered. Wasn't I supposed to be like that, being the girl and all? As he pulled out a couple of VIP passes from his jacket, I had time to appreciate that he wasn't dressed like a fairy today. Those jeans were damn nice on him, and I wondered faintly if he'd consider dressing like it all the time. Well, they'd probably kick him out of his work if he did. Snobs apparently didn't appreciate the punk scene that much, which made it even weirder that Francis had asked me out.

"Aw, Lovi, I had things to do, mon cher!"

I tried not to go bright red as he kissed me on the cheek, and took a step back. "Don't care," I replied flippantly as I plucked one of the tickets from his hand quickly and stalked over to the bouncer. It was a good thing Francis couldn't read my emotions, I mulled as I stood there. Inwardly I felt like a little kid that had been given candy. This was (unfortunately) exciting for me- I didn't get along with people easily, and it was good that I was finally socialising, even if Francis was a pervert. Actually, speaking of...

"My face is up here, bastard."

I grimaced at the sheer disgust of the figure in front of me, who I hadn't noticed until he had begun ogling my chest. The bouncer shifted his meatsack of a face away from me, and I wrinkled my nose as he moved to let me pass. He smelt like meat that had been in the fridge for a million years, and I flinched away as he patted my ass and gave it a squeeze. This attention was not wanted, at all. I shot him a sharp glare as he grinned toothlessly, withdrawing. Ew. No.

That was when Francis tapped his shoulder and smiled at him, and I felt more chilled than before. It looked like his normal smile, but at the same time I felt like an army of Frenchmen were going to suddenly appear and bludgeon the bouncer with a baguette or something. It was weird. Francis held up his VIP card and simply walked past the man, looking up at him and hissing something I couldn't hear in the hulk's ear. Honestly, I didn't know how he could get that close without gagging, the man smelled awful.

"Shall we go in, Lovi?"

"'s about time, you damn frog."

"You sound like Arthur, cher."

"Hmpf."

I rolled my eyes at the blonde but let him sling an arm around my waist, mildly amused he hadn't tried to grope me himself yet. He began to lead us into the main room, looking around and waving to a man with the weirdest fucking eyebrows I'd ever seen. The man rose his middle finger, leaning back on the couch he was currently lounging on. "Let's go and say hello," Francis said with a grin. I raised one of my _normal_ eyebrows at him in question, and he laughed.

"That, ma cherie, is Arthur Kirkland."

I sat gingerly down on the couch opposite the eyebrowed disaster, looking him over. Despite the eyebrows, he was surprisingly attractive. The green of his eyes was almost luminous in the shadows, and he looked like he suited this scene, unlike Francis. The nose ring, the lip ring...I wondered if he had any more piercings. Interesting. His expression was closed off, despite the tanned chick with her hair in two ponytails with red ribbons on the left of him and the academic-looking one with a braid and glasses hanging all over his barely-clothed body.

"Michelle, Sophia," Francis greeted. "It's been a while. Are my cousins treating you well, Arthur?"

The brunette beamed at us while the other one glanced away, looking bored. What a fucking snob. Not that I was any different, but still. It was the pure principle of the thing. Arthur regarded me for a second and then snorted, sending a flush to my face. He had fucking _snorted_ at me! Did he have some kind of problem? Did he want his face punched in? I powered up my glare but was stopped by the man's reply to Francis's earlier statement.

"They do a decent job, thank you."

"I could do better~"

Did he normally hit on other people while on a date? Although, I supposed that was just how he was. Unscrupulous character. Either way, it didn't seem like the British guy was interested in him. Well, he did have two bitches already, and from what I'd been listening to, they were related. It seemed a little ridiculous. Did he just fish for his friend's relatives? That was beyond a joke; it was outright pathetic. I sighed as Francis stood up again and sent him a questioning look.

"I'm going to get drinks, cherie. What would you like?"

I sighed. "Whatever they've got. Make it strong."

He bowed to me. "As you wish."

As the brunette got up as well and the bitch followed, I realised I'd just been left alone with Eyebrowgeddon. He had that cocky look on his face; the one that made me want to break his nose and watch him bleed. I didn't want to hear him speak. I didn't like his accent, and the way he was looking at me was disconcerting.

"What?"

"...I'm surprised he picked up a girl from my scene, that's all. How much do you charge?"

"The fu- excuse me?!"

"I would have thought the question was simple enough."

"Fuck you. I'm not a whore."

"...then how the hell did you end up with Francis?"

"He asked me out. I said fine. Problem?"

"No, not at all. I didn't catch your name, though..."

"Lovina," I muttered, completely sick of this bastard and his assumptions. I thought British people were supposed to be 'gentlemen' and all that shit. Clearly I had been wrong, I mused as I glanced in the general direction of the bar. Where was Francis? My gaze slid over the people there, and I realized with a jolt Francis was sitting next to me. How could I not have noticed? Was I that distracted by the crowd and the eyebrow bastard that I didn't notice anything else?

"Your drink, cherie."

"Grazie."

The alcohol burned pleasantly and I felt a small, twisted smile cross my face. This was the easiest way to deal with people. Get as drunk as fuck so you don't have to deal and, if you do, beat up someone and get away with it. I took another swallow, leaning back with a sigh as Francis sneaked an arm around me. I froze, unused to being touched by anyone but Antonio, and then forced myself to calm. I was on a date. There was no reason for me to be so jumpy!

I let out a nervous laugh, leaning against Francis. Some more drinks would help the situation.

### ####

"And he was like, 'oh Lovi, you can't drown your brother in a fishtank!'"

Michelle laughed, beaming at me as we danced along to the music. It was more like shaking our ass to the beat...but still. The lights were fading in and out, and I couldn't remember how long I'd been here now. I had no fucking idea where anyone else was; many drinks ago Michelle and I had decided the others were slightly boring and that we were going to go party.

Wait.

I was here for a reason...wasn't I?

"Francis!"

I stumbled out of the crowd, nearly falling over myself and a bunch of other people in the process. I needed to find him because...because...oh, god, I didn't know. A nauseous feeling rose in my gut and I tried to breathe, the heat of the club too stifling for any kind of respiration. "Ugh," I heard myself say as I turned my blurring vision towards where my date had been. I focused on the snobbish bitch, not remembering or caring what her name was. What, however, caught my attention was the fact neither Francis nor Arthur were there.

"Where are they...?"

Sofia shrugged, tipping her nose up at me. Rude much? "They walked off quite a few minutes ago. Most likely the bathroom." I scanned the room, gripping the couch so I didn't fall, trying to figure out where the damn toilets were. Finally I noticed a neon sign, and practically staggered over to it. I could only hope this actually _was_ the bathroom, and not somewhere I wasn't supposed to be.

...although, there were some weird rooms here. I wonder what they-

Was that Francis's voice?

I reached for a handle to the door as it almost slammed open and someone stalked out.

### ####

"Lovi!"

Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovina tightly, letting out a relieved breath when he saw she seemed unhurt, although a little unsteady on her feet. She squirmed in his grip, tilting her chin up to glance at him with slightly unfocused amber-green eyes. She didn't look upset; so clearly she hadn't been in the room and she didn't know about what was going on in there. Thank goodness. He sighed again and let her go when she began moving again.

"Toni...what're you doing here?"

"I...er...came to take you home."

Either Lovina didn't notice his awkward excuses or she didn't care, because she smiled up at him vaguely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her look genuinely happy, and it lifted his heart as well. He smiled back at her, unable to keep it to himself as she hiccupped and began giggling for no reason, slinging her arms around his neck so she could lean on him.

"I'm glad~"

"Why?"

"Mm...I like you better anyway."

Before he had time to process what she had just said he had to process the fact that _dios mio Lovina was kissing him_. He kissed back immediately, sinking into a haze of pleasure at her nipping at his lip lightly. Although the taste of her was tainted by the mix of cocktails she had clearly been drinking. The moment they broke the contact Antonio opened his mouth to question his little Italian but she had already slumped against him.

Unconscious.

He lifted her into his arms, smiling at the peaceful expression on her face. As long as she was happy, it was fine. She didn't need to find out about what he had walked in on.

/

_"Mon Dieu, Arthur, oh!"_

_"Unh- what, frog?"_

_"H-harder!"_

_The panting, the sweating, the lust..._

/

It was a good thing he was here, he mulled as he nudged the back door open with his foot, waving awkwardly at Michelle who waved back cheerfully. Sophia, who was sitting beside her, looked away without making any sort of acknowledgment. The Spaniard didn't really mind, however. Without him Lovina's heart might have been broken. But...she'd just said she liked him better anyway, so why was she going out with Francis...?

Oh well.

He didn't know, and he didn't care.

Lovina was his now, and he'd look after her.

He was the boss.


End file.
